


Tales from Appalachia

by Militem (ava_militem)



Category: Fallout 4, Fallout 76
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_militem/pseuds/Militem
Summary: A collection of works based on my Fallout 76 survivor, Nate Cortez, and those he interacted with as he survived Appalachia.I will post relevant information in the notes for each chapter, including a rating. The rating will change for the collection overall according to the highest rated work. Same goes for tags.





	1. Unscheduled Appointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Tags: Illness
> 
> Robert Covington is not my character and belongs to [funeralfiona ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funeralfiona/pseuds/funeralfiona) here and [@tonightinthewasteland](https://tonightinthewasteland.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Check out their blog. :)

A chill had crept into his bones somewhere in the Savage Divide the night before and was quickly sapping the strength from Nate’s limbs. The herbal tablets he took at the early onset of symptoms weren’t doing anything for his worsening condition and he didn’t have any other medications. Any attempt to think back to the onset of illness was futile as his memory failed. Whatever this was, it was neurological. His only saving grace was he had made it past the mountains and was now in the safer region of the forest. 

Nate tried in vain to get a fire going but his hands were clumsy and uncooperative as his feet were. He shivered uncontrollably, huddled in the corner of the decrepit building that was once a coffee shop. If he was more alert he would have noted the open windows provided no shelter from inclement weather and the building was too close to the road, leaving him exposed to the threats of West Virginia. Against his will, Nate fell asleep.

***

He woke with a start with someone nudging his foot, going for his knife before the figure standing over him help up their hands.

“Easy, friend. You look to be in bad shape.”

Their voice was calm and confident. Nate’s blurred vision disallowed for the man to come into clarity. 

“You have a very high fever,” the man continued, “What other symptoms are you experiencing? Pain? Nausea?”

Nate struggled to find his voice, “Can’t walk, numb.”

He tried to move only to find his body stiff and painful. He growled in agony. 

“I’m a doctor, I can help. If it’s okay with you I am going to check your skin for lesions” he stated.

Nate barely had time to nod before the stranger was undressing him to expose his upper body. He shook his head and made a disapproving noise as he stripped Nate down to his pants and boots. 

“Swollen, purple lesions. No weeping or oozing. Would you said you have sudden limb paralysis?”

Nate nodded again. The doctor poked a few of the purple spots on Nate’s chest and hummed to himself. He stood and went to his duffle bag that was laying on the ground. Keeping his mind focused on the stranger was more than Nate could handle and he struggled to remain conscious.

“Without bloodwork, I can’t be sure but I believe you have a severe case of asthenia from an acute bacterial infection. Some strong antibiotics and a day of rest and you should make a full recovery. Diseases these days are much more powerful,” he chuckled as if he’d made a joke.

Nate heard the sharp click of glass-on-stone and water splashing. The stranger was standing over him again. Sharp pain in Nate’s arm followed and Nate’s consciousness wavered once again.

***

His fever broke in the night and the pain left with it. By morning, Nate’s vision had returned to normal and he was able to properly get a sense of his surroundings. The doctor, a fairly tall man with blond hair and far too attractive to be a survivor, slept soundly beside the extinguished remains of a fire. A pip-boy was latched onto his left forearm.

Nate tried to stand only to slip and crash to the ground, accidentally kicking over a cup of water by his feet.

“Easy,” the doctor said sleepily, “flap limb takes a few hours to wear off after antibiotics.”

Nate looked at the man in more length, he was Nuka-boy pretty with bright eyes and a look of intelligence to him he didn’t like.

“Thank you.”

The man smiled warmly, unnerving Nate, “ My pleasure, you’re lucky I was in the area. You would have died.”

The thought had passed his mind though he would never admit it to a stranger. He was already uncomfortable with the idea of being indebted to someone he didn’t know.

“Are you really a doctor?”

The man let out a short laugh, “Yes. Fully licensed before the war. I am the head of Medicine in Vault 76.”

Nate kept it to himself that he knew that was no longer the case, Casey had made it clear their former titles meant little outside the Vault. This doctor was a reclaimer now, just like Casey and the other vault dwellers dying across Appalachia. He wondered what this ‘doctor’ was after. 

“What do I owe you?”

“For now, nothing,” the doctor began, “I am looking for someone who knows the region, however. A guide.”

“What makes you think I do?”

“Come now, I wasn’t born yesterday. You were not in the Vault, you smell as if you have been living off the land for longer than I have been alive and look the part too,” he quirked an eyebrow at Nate, “I can pay you, of course. I happen to sell my services to the unfortunate few of Appalachia and chems to the needy. We all have our vices.”

Nate’s eyes shot to his pack and he got the feeling this doctor had gone through his belongings. The day tripper and calm-x in his bag were tucked into the side pocket and the buffout and bufftats were in the main compartment beside his water purifier and dried radstag. 

“I’m not for sale.”

“Of course not. This will have to be a mutual agreement. Not constant, of course.”

HIs eyes moved over the doctor again. There was a dark stain on the bottom of his lab coat, possibly old blood given the colour. He was tall but slim in build, capable looking and Nate knew there was more information in that pip-boy than in any of Nate’s maps. 

The doctor continued, “I know you probably haven’t met many vault dwellers but I promise you we are a resilient and hard-working people.”

In one sentence the man had insulted Nate more than any other vault dweller he had met so far. Nate huffed and shook his head, these vault dwellers were all the same, arrogant and overconfident. Casey was the only person he has met thus far that had any sense to him.

The doctor continued to bargain, “How about you just escort me to Helvetia and we can decide from there. I’ll give you two doses of antibiotics for the journey.”

Despite his gut, Nate agreed. If the man was a threat, he would just have to deal with him later.

The doctor smiled, “Excellent. What should I call you?”

“Call me Lobo,” Nate replied after a short pause, drawing on the nickname Casey had gifted him recently. 

“Dr. Covington, please to meet you Lobo.” he held out one of his too-clean hands for Nate to take.

“Nice to meet you, Doc.”


	2. A Path into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siddhi was born in Vault 76 shortly after the doors closed. She's known nothing of the outside world and find her way in an unfamiliar landscape.

Siddhi’s roof was leaking, a steady rhythm of drips that was pooling on her mattress and soaking her blankets thoroughly. The rain had not let up for three days and she had taken to sleeping in her sleeping bag beneath the armor workbench. Everything was damp, her socks, her jumpsuit, her skin. She kept thinking about how pruney her fingers were and if they were going to rot off. 

Her sleep through the night was broken, a thunderstorm rolling in that lead to Siddhi wishing her mom and dad were around to sing to her. She hated them, the powerful cracks and flashes of light. In the vault, there were no thunderstorms, no hail, no weather. She’d been born into a sterile world and for the last six months had struggled to survive. Tears started streaming down her face and she eventually fell asleep wishing she was back in the vault.

Morning brought some relief from the rain and the first promising hints of sunshine Siddhi has seen in days. Donning her only dry jacket, Siddhi decided to take the opportunity to collect fresh supplies, hoping the storm had not completely destroyed her crops. Her corn was still standing but her tatos had gone missing. The grass was squishy beneath her feet and the former creek had turned into a river that was rushing all too close to her camp for comfort. She’d have to move uphill. Any future storm could have her swimming. 

Morgantown was desolate as usual, the occasional pop on gunfire in the distance the only noise to break the quiet. The silence was unsettling, even after six months out of the vault. Siddhi had grown up with the constant vibration of the pipes in the walls and the ventilation shafts groaning. Appalachia was too peaceful, too quiet, too lonely. She missed her parents, she missed her friends, hell, she even missed Dr. Covington and his bad attitude. She hadn’t seen the doctor in a few weeks and he normally checks on her small clinic/camp at least every other week. Maybe he had finally left, just like her friends and family had. Siddhi rubbed angrily at the tears in her eyes. 

The sound of a footstep in the dirt behind her had her spinning on her heels with her 10mm pistol drawn in a flash. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw it was only a human, but tensed when she realized who it was.

“Siddhi.”

“Woofy,” she replied mockingly. 

Nate frowned and gave no reply. He brought his hand to his mouth and whistle twice before standing like an old grumpy statue staring at Siddhi. Siddhi wondered what the hell Casey saw in this guy? As usual, Casey came bounding out from between the houses like a radstag, clutching his ridiculous cowboy hat as he hopped off the curb and started chattering to Nate. 

“What’s up big wolf?” he asked with a gross level of endearment that was sure to give Siddhi contact diabetes, “Did you find plastic?”. 

Nate tipped his head towards her, Casey turned to her and beamed, “Hi Siddhi! How are you? Did you see that storm last night? Wasn’t that crazy?”

“Good, I guess. Yeah, it was neat, I don’t really like thunderstorms,” she replied robotically. 

“When I was a kid I used to take Mr. Fuzzy and go sleep with my parents when the big storms rolled in,” Casey continued, “Now I just hug my big teddy bear.” Casey accentuated the statement by wrapping his arms around Nate’s torso, earning himself a groan and eye roll from both Siddhi and Nate. 

Casey looked up at Nate and to Siddhi’s surprise, the older man bends at the waist to pecked Casey on the lips. 

Casey began walking over to Siddhi after a hushed exchange of endearments, “Nate and I are looking for scrap, want to tag along? I’ll cook you lunch?”

“Sure,” Siddhi replied as she watched Nate slink off behind the row of houses they had both emerged from.

Casey smiled and clasped his hands before he turned back to Nate only to find him gone, “Damn wolf.”

Siddhi followed Casey as he chattered on about what he would cook for lunch. She missed his voice and company. She missed people and after a few minutes she was joining in and they were reminiscing about all the different food the vault offered. Their volume grew and their laughter echoed off the empty buildings and down the abandoned streets of Morgantown. 

The loud crack of a rifle had them both jumping and Siddhi almost screamed when a ghoul collapsed with a splat behind them, its headshot through. 

Casey and Siddhi both stared at it wide-eyed, before looking at each other with a worried expression.

“That’s Nate’s way of telling us to pay attention,” Casey said soberly.   
For the remainder of the morning, Casey and Siddhi spoke more cautiously, aware Nate was watching not only their backs but them as well. His lurking presence made Siddhi uncomfortable, she didn’t trust him. He wasn’t a vault dweller and from what Casey had explained he was just another soldier who ran away from the army and had survived the last two decades doing who knows what.

When the noon sun beat down relentlessly they retreated back to Siddhi’s camp for shade, food and water. Siddhi had a spit and pot set up just outside the door of her two-story house. She was too embarrassed to let Casey inside, seeing as everything was damp and in need of repair. She looked around and didn’t see Nate’s looming shadow.

“Where’s Nate?”

Without looking up Casey replied, “He’ll catch up. Probably just scrounging around.”

The fire in her cook station was still flickering and with some gentle coercion, it came back to life. She hung a heavy bottom pot from the spit and dumped in some dried meat from three days ago. She wanted a fridge but had yet to find the resources to build a generator. 

Siddhi watched as Casey expertly minced onion sprouts and bloodleaf, tossing it into the pot and allowing the colour to seep into the meat she had dumped in just before. He added some water carrots, tatos and a few other ingredients Siddhi couldn't name. 

“I’ll let it cook for about half an hour, should be ready then,” he stated with a smile, “I’m going to clean my kit in the creek. Should we make some tea as well? I have ash rose or soot flower, your choice? I can even sweeten the deal with some bourbon.”

They decided to mix both together and see what would happen, adding in some honey Siddhi had found in Morgantown in lieu of liquor. 

“So how far have you travelled, Casey?” Siddhi asked as she stirred the soupy-stew mixture. 

Casey pursed his lips and tapped a finger against them in contemplation, “Let's see… last month we made it to Watoga but it’s overrun with haywire robots. We might go back and hack into the Mayor’s office. We went to some place Nate calls the Mire, a swamp, I don't remember what was there before but it’s hauntingly beautiful and spooky, like an abandoned ghost town… I guess all of Appalachia is like that though,” he laughed to himself, “Lots of big froggy things. The area between here and the Mire is apparently called the divide or something and it’s full of wolves and thing that want to eat you. What about you?”

Siddhi tapped the spoon on the side of the pot and looked towards her home, “Not far. There are a few reclaimers banding together to rebuild the Responders and I thought about joining but Robert mentioned another group called the Enclave who needs people too…” Casey’s face contorted into a frown at the mention of his ex-partner, “Sorry… he stops by and buys chems off me. Sometimes we forage together but he’s...not much of a forager.”

Casey waved a hand in the air as if swatting at a bug, “Let’s change the subject. Robert is boring.”

They both giggled at the comment and its truth before moving onto farming tips and quickly lost track of time.

Nate didn’t come back for food until mid-afternoon and he was covered in blood. Siddhi didn’t ask who’s it was and hoped it was from an animal. He silently helped himself to a bowl of stew, polished it off in record speed and then scooped out another before sitting by the river alone. She couldn’t help but notice Nate didn’t wash his hands or face before eating and it crossed her mind once again that Casey was following around a modern-day barbarian. 

Casey must have taken note of Siddhi’s discomfort, “Want to go scrounge in the woods for edibles? I can show you the best spots for starlight berries.

“Sure, I’d like that,” she replied chipperly. 

Nate turned to look at Casey, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, “Stay sharp.”

“Sir, yes’ sir!” Casey mocked a salute before pointing a finger towards his own face, “Nate you got a little...on your face.”

Nate swiped his clothed forearm across his mouth which only proceeded to smear more blood and who-knows-what across his jaw.

“That’s…” Casey began but apparently decided to drop the subject and began walking into the woods.

When they were out of earshot Siddhi laughed, “Where did you find him again? In the woods?”

Casey smiled, “Yup, like a lonely puppy. Gave him some food and he kept coming back. Doesn’t hurt he’s easy on the eyes. When he’s clean.”

“He’s weird.”

“I know,” Casey said endearingly, his eyes glazing over briefly before he chirped up, “Oh look! Firecap!”

The pair headed up the hillside forest, foraging as they went until they found themselves back in Morgantown. They circled through the town, noting the freshly killed scorched and wild dogs and making predictions as to who had killed them. 

As the sun began to set Casey indicated that they should head back before nightfall and Siddhi agreed. Both their packs were full as were their bellies. They followed the creek that lead back to her camp. The sound of hammering on wood got louder the closer they were and when they arrived, they found Nate on the roof and Siddhi’s C.A.M.P. moving wooden planks into place. His clothing hung from a makeshift clothesline, still dripping, and Siddhi looked up to her roof to see him working in a tank top and fatigues.

“Hey woof, what are you doing up there?” Casey called. 

Nate poked his head over the side and replied stiffly, “Fixing things. Almost done,” before disappearing again.

Casey simply shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to unbuckle his pack. A wave of embarrassment washed through Siddhi as she heard Nate begin to work again. She didn’t want his help, she didn’t need it and it was only a matter of time before she fixed the roof… and the walls… she just needed time. Maybe a little help. Survival was just so much harder than she had anticipated.

“Siddhi?”

Casey was tilting his head and she realized she was crying, “Sorry, Casey. My house isn’t so great. I tried but I get lonely and it’s so much more work than the Overseer said it would be. I’m so bad at this…” she sobbed, “I’m lonely and this is hard and I miss my mom and dad.”

“Hey, don’t cry, you’re doing fine!” Casey comforted with a small amount of panic in his voice, “You’re still alive! That’s something! And, uh, you got a house and a garden…”

She sniffled, “We were supposed to rebuild America and we’re all a bunch of scattered losers who keep arguing about whos the leader and we all just disappear and die anyway. I’m scared of getting too close and everyone dying. My friends died, my parents are gone. I don’t know what happened to the Overseer. I tried to look for her but I lost track around Lewisburg. I’m alone, Casey, and I hate it.”

Siddhi felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to hug Casey, only for her to hit a solid wall of bone and muscle instead. She looked up and saw the shocked face of Nate. She noticed he was much cleaner. The older man wrapped an arm around Siddhi and she buried her face in his sweaty shirt and gently sobbed. 

“Survival isn’t easy. You’re going to lose parts of yourself, Siddhi and you might never get them back,” Nate spoke calmly, from experience, “You need to embrace the change, be willing to learn and adapt if you want to survive here. Appalachia is unforgiving.”

“You say that a lot,” Casey interjected.

Nate turned to face him, Siddhi releasing her hold on him, “Because it’s true. It swallowed entire towns of people and spat out the scorched and who knows what else.”

Casey stepped forwards and looked Siddhi up and down, “Before the collapse, the Responders were the strongest faction in the area, they were what the world needed. They brought people together, they built communities. People flocked to them…

“They’re dead now, like everyone else,” Nate interjected.

 

Casey’s face twisted in horror as he gaped at Nate, “Not helping, Captain Lone Wolf!” He pulled Siddhi towards him and held her at arm's’ length, reminding her of her father, “What’s your name?”

“Siddhi. Al Said.”

“What is your goal, Siddhi? Your mission.”

“To rebuild America,” she said unconfidently. 

Nate shook his head, “You need to be more specific. What do you want?”

Casey smiled at her and Siddhi bit her lip as she shook her head again, “I don’t know.”

“Then find someone who does,” Nate said dismissively.

She looked at Casey, then back to Nate, “Like you guys?”

Casey laughed, “Oh no! We have no idea what we’re doing. Right, Nate?”

Nate quirked an eyebrow, “I know what I’m doing, you just follow me.”

Casey’s jaw dropped open in shock, “Hey! Listen here!”

Nate shook his head, “Later.”

Casey’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times before he pouted and looked at Siddhi, “You can follow him. Maybe he’ll tell you where he goes.”

Siddhi detected some bitterness underlying the casual tone Casey normally held. The younger of the two men had crossed his arms and looked away, silence taking over for a moment before Casey spoke again, “I know someone who can help!”

Siddhi’s eyes widened, “You do?”

She thought maybe Casey had tracked down the Overseer but something in his eyes told her that wasn’t the case, “Joshua Blackwell, a firebreather.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed and Casey, without looking, made a shushing noise clearly not directed at her. Behind him, Nate threw up his hands and walked towards her water purifier. 

“Joshua just completed the Fire Breather program the responders set up. It’s an automated program to train you on defence. They could probably use a medic?”

“A medic,” Siddhi parroted, her voice hopeful.

Casey’s eyes were lit up and he beamed at her with that unbridled optimism people had scoffed at him for in the Vault, “We’ll go looking for him tomorrow.”

Siddhi smiled and hugged Casey, hope kindled in her chest once more. That night Siddhi slept comfortably dry, lulled to sleep by the whispers of Nate and Casey camping out on the main floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want this to be too long. 
> 
> I will add in tags later but the Characters belong to the following:
> 
> @tonightinthewateland - Casey Loomis and Robert Covington  
> @lamorellenoire6 - Joshua Blackwell


	3. Collision Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate's first encounter with a reclaimer is essentially "Crash into hello".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preacher is not my character and belongs to [funeralfiona ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funeralfiona/pseuds/funeralfiona) here and [@tonightinthewasteland](https://tonightinthewasteland.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Check out their blog. :)

The morning sun had just crested the eastern Appalachian mountains when Nate stumbled upon a rare find, an intact and previously undiscovered tent ripe for the ransacking. Familiar signs of habitation were present, smouldering embers in the fire and freshly trampled grass at the tent’s opening. He decided against investigating further until he noticed the fresh blood-stained grass catching the sunlight and leading towards an old pavilion. A touch of blue poked out from under a picnic table and he knew the former occupant was recently deceased, leaving behind their belongings to those more fortunate.

The far wall of the tent had been ripped open and quickly the grim death of the vault dweller at the hands of some beast’s teeth and claws became apparent. The belongings and tent were ripe for the picking.

This vault dweller was the fourth one Nate had found dead in the past three days, the number ‘76’ stitched in gold on the back of the skin-tight blue suit they wore.

Nate walked back up the hill, scanning the horizon as he went, listening for the sounds of scavengers or approaching dangers. So far, all was quiet, so he set to picking apart the camp. This vault dweller, like those before, carried a variety seldom seen in the past years. Preserved rations and fresh water, socks without holes, underwear, and antibiotics that weren't two decades past expiration. The pip-boy would be stripped apart and any other materials judged and scrutinized for their value. Plastic, metal, nuts and bolts, all of it he considered a treasure. His shotgun was falling apart screw-by-screw and one butt away from needing a new stock. 

Popping the cover off the pip-boy, Nate saw it was old but in good shape, crystal and circuits intact and working, wires still flexible. The fusion cells powering the device would replace the failing ones in his Geiger counter. The scrap would be saved for later. Nate laid out all the parts, meticulously sorting them into the pockets of his backpack; screws, springs, glue, copper wire.

Once the pip-boy was stripped he looked through the blood-splattered remnants of the tent, finding little more than empty cans of pork and beans and empty antibiotics foils. This dweller had little, no medicine, food or water and may have died before the scavengers found him. His stomach growled in disappointment, gnawing at him after two days lacking a proper meal.

The sound of a twig snapping broke Nate’s focus and he pivoted silently on his feet. Ragged breathing and light footsteps, a shadow cast from the newly-risen sun dotted with flecks of green. The scorched were all too silent as they crept across Appalachia, ceaseless in their search for… Nate wasn’t sure. 

What he was certain of was where one was found a half dozen followed. He slowly began backing out of the tent, drawing his dagger. A silent retreat was almost successfully made until his foot kicked over an empty can, the metal clicking loudly as it bounced down the rocky hillside towards the dead vault dweller.

The scorched drew a raspy breath and before it could round the door, Nate launched out of the tent with his pack. He took off before the creature could see him towards the woods, hoping the trees would provide some cover when the monsters decided to open fire. A bullet whizzed by his head just as he entered the treeline.

Green flashed by him, bursts of sunlight piercing the canopy as he gradually ascended up a hill. He’d lost his bearings and already the panic of running into an ambush crossed his mind as the commotion followed him through the thick woods. If he didn’t lose the scorched they would soon draw the attention of any turned or mutated in the area. 

The treeline broke just before the hill’s crest and Nate looked over his shoulder to see if anything had followed him. Before he could slow down he collided hard with something that yelped and both went tumbling down the hillside at a dangerous speed. His knife was knocked from his hand and the glasses were thrown from his face as he rolled, landing heavily against an unforgiving rock that at least stopped his momentum.

Blinded and dazed, Nate struggled to his feet, falling over something that responded with a high pitched, “Ouch! Watch it!” before falling to the floor once more.

The figure before him was blurred but moving, making a great deal of noise, human noise, words.

“Oh god, are you okay?” 

Nate struggled with a reply, clumsily feeling around for his glasses, his ear’s straining for indications they were being followed, telepathically unable to tell the stranger to be quiet and unable to form the words. How long had it been since he last spoke; weeks? Months? When had he last seen Grahm? August? Time was lost to him. 

“I’m so sorry, I was being chased by these huge rats and I didn’t even see you. Ran right into you!”

Nate patted his knife holster and remembered the blade has been tossed from his hand when they collided. Why were they still talking? 

“Crap, I don’t know where my glasses are. I can see okay without them but looking at my pip-boy is not going to be fun.”

Shut up, shut up! They’ll hear you!

“Whoa, I think you’re head is bleeding, do you need a stim? I think I have a spare one...halfway up the hill. Oh, boy...”

No, I need you to be quiet. Nate managed to get out a sharp hiss and pressed a finger to his lips.  
“Oh, right,” the man fell quiet and still.

Finally, Nate started collecting his bearings. The sun was shining warmly on his left shoulder which told him he was facing south. Aside from a distant twittering of birds, there was no other noise. In addition to his glasses and knife missing his pack was also absent. 

A quiet whisper broke his concentration, “I don’t think we’re being chased anymore.”

Nate nodded in agreement. He heard footsteps from the stranger as he got up and began walking away. Instincts told him to run but without glasses or his pack, he was a deadman. 

“I don’t remember seeing you in the Vault? What wing were you in?”

Another vault dweller, this time alive, breathing, talking, talking to him. A person in Appalachia for the first time in years, one who’s first reaction wasn’t attacking him. Nate couldn’t believe it, not after all this time.

“Are you real?” he croaked.

The stranger let out a breathy, nervous-sounding laugh, his shape stopping halfway up the hill, “Of course I am?”

He needed to see this man for measure, youthful sounding, an adult judging from his voice? Younger than Nate’s forty-five...no, no… Taggardy was still alive when he was forty-five, he didn’t know how old he was or the year.

“I need my pack.” He fumbled, feeling for anything around him, a rock, a stick, in case this stranger attacked him. Only gravel and dirt scraped against his nails.

“Here you go,” Nate looked up as the blurry form of his backpack came into clearer view. 

Frantically, Nate checked to ensure all the zippers were closed, that nothing was out of place. He then went to his spare glasses, misfitting but able to clarify his vision. He pulled them out of a side pocket and put them on, blinking as the world came back into focus.

The stranger was indeed a young man, dressed head-to-toe in a ranger’s outfit with the yellow and blue hint of a vault suit underneath. With a slim build and average height Nate instantly pitied him, his size would be a disadvantage in appalachia. Or would it? Larger men had fallen where the small could slip between the cracks. Like Grant and Eli.

He paused when their eyes met. Bright eyes that soaked up the sun in amber irises, beacons that darted to and fro with a jitteriness that made Nate uneasy. Cautious, smart.

“I think your canteen broke,” the man pointed to his pack, a large wet spot running down the side.  
Nate frowned and looked away, cursing internally as he reached into his pack and pulling out his punctured water canister. His last can of purified water. 

“I have some more at my camp. I have some leftover deer stew too.”

“Raddeer,” Nate corrected immediately, “We refer to the irradiated deer as Raddeer. As with many of the irradiated animals.”

“Why?” his curiosity was genuine.

“They’re dangerous. A distinction you need to learn.”

Nate remained crouched low to the ground, closing his pack and slinging it over his shoulders. The vault dweller watched him cautiously, jerking if Nate made a sudden movement.

“Have...have you been out here since the war?”

Nate ignored him and took a wide path around the man, heading up the hill to look for his glasses and dagger.

He heard the man begin to follow him, causing Nate to stop and spin on his heels, a hand on his non-existent dagger. There was a tense moment of silence before the man smiled, “My camp is that way, just east of some old farms. Open invite.”

He pointed a finger over Nate’s shoulder towards the west, where, if his memory served correct, there was a string of farms along the river. Maybe this vault dweller was honest and had made a camp stocked with provisions. He could get some food and water, scout the area, return later and relieve the vault dweller of his belongings when nature inevitably caught up with him. 

Nate looked the man up and down and nodded before continuing up the hill in search of his belongings. He found both but his glasses would need some repairs before they could be used. The stranger was a fair distance ahead, throwing an occasional glance over his shoulder at Nate that made him nervous.

Following from a distance, Nate opened his bottle of Daytripper and popped a few pills in his mouth, swallowing them dry. The pills helped him collect his thoughts and calmed his nerves, both of which were scrambles and on edge.

“I’m so glad it isn’t raining today,” the vault dweller called out, “I’m still not used to how fast the weather changes yet.”

The treeline was quiet and undisturbed, a flock of birds chirped from a skeleton tree. He grunted noncommittally.

“Did you live in Appalachia all your life too?” the man asked chipperly.

“No,” Nate replied flatly. 

The man nodded, “It’s bigger than I remember. Appalachia, that is. Actually, the whole world seems bigger. I wonder what New York or Washington looks like. Is there a government left?”

“No.”

“Figures. The Overseer told us the government had likely collapsed. What about the military?”

Nate frowned as his thoughts turned to his brother-in-law, Roger Maxson. He had no idea if the Brotherhood was still alive. Years had passed and so much had happened.

He took a deep breath, “I don’t know.” 

Another moment of blissful silence passed as they began descending down the hill before the dweller spoke again, “My camp is just over there.”

Nestled against the treeline was a small wooden shack. The man began jogging down the hill towards his home, Nate scanned the horizon before closely following in the man’s tracks. If the dweller had set up traps they would take the safest path. As they got closer, Nate took in the lack of defences, the simplicity to the small farm the man was growing. He slowed to a walk, short stalks of corn and bushes covered in flowers placed in neat rows. His jaw fell slack, as he took in the carefully tended garden. 

The man had disappeared into the house, the squeaky door hinge signalling his entrance. A yelp came from the shack and Nate dashed to the door just in time to see the vault dweller stick a butcher’s knife into a radroach.

The man looked disparagingly at the roach, the remnants of his stew spilled across the floor. He turned to Nate,” Let me guess, rad-cockroach.”

“Radroach.”

The man sighed heartbrokenly, “I’m sorry, that was the deer -raddeer- stew I was going to serve. I can make you a tomato and Salisbury sandwich instead. And I think I have some untouched pie leftovers. I hope you like blackberries.”

Between the smell of the stew and the promise of food, Nate’s stomach betrayed his null exterior, causing the man to smile and clasp his hands, “Good! I’ll get started. The water pump is out back and I have an extra canteen in my stash box over there.”

Nate unthinkingly walked over to the box and opened it, realizing after his potentially fatal mistake; had there been a trap he would be dead. But inside he found only innocuous things, blankets, rations, cans of purified water, and a Vault 76 canteen. The canteen looked untouched and unused, something foreign in a world surviving on scraps. 

The sun was already beating down, chasing away the night’s chill. The vault dweller could make do with some defences, an alarm or even a fence. His home was exposed on all sides and while the scorched were rare in the area, mutants and rabid animals were not. 

The water from the well was blissfully cool and radiation-free according to his Geiger. Nate filled the canteen, drinking it down before refilling it and proceeding to splash some water on his face. Cool water ran into his beard, grown long, much like his hair, both well past his collar. He pulled out a ribbon to tie up his hair, knotted and tangled, and wet the back of his neck. Removing the lingering stickiness of sweat brought him a small relief. 

Footsteps grew louder from behind him.

“Hey.. I’m sorry I didn't catch your name…” the man called, pausing to see if Nate would supply one, “Lunch is ready.”

As promised, a sandwich was set neatly on a red-rimmed plate marred with chips and cracks. A garnish of fried potato sticks was provided, seasoned and salted. A tall pitcher of deep purple fluid sat between them. As did the promised pie. Nate took a small moment to marvel at the proper meal before he picked up the plate and sniffed it cautiously. There was no overt toxic overtones, just the staleness of the bread and the smell of two-decade-old dried steak. His mouth watered in response.

Nate looked up to see the man watching him with bright eyes, his hands folded politely in his lap, “I made the tato-sticks out of some Instamash. The juice is blackberry and the pie is pumpkin. If I had cream I would make whipped topping but, alas, no more cows.”

Nate took a small bite of the sandwich, his mouth began to water uncontrollably and he took another. In three bites half of the sandwich was gone. The meat was coated in a thick gravy and there were bursts of tato and onion, flavours he’d forgotten about. He suppressed a shiver. 

“There are,” he said through a mouthful. His company hummed and nodded vigorously.

“Brahmin,” he said after swallowing, “Cows are brahmin. There are a few still around.”

The vault dweller smiled, “That’s good to know! Do they have big fangs now? Are they really big? Or maybe they are small!”

Nate quirked an eyebrow, “They have two heads.”

His company frowned, “Why does every herbivore have two heads now?”

“Two heads are better than one,” Nate replied idly before diving back into his meal. 

“I guess that makes sense,” the dweller replied honestly, “They didn’t anticipate all this mutation in the vault. The scientists thought there would be more die-off but West Virginia seems to flourish.”

Nate shrugged his big shoulders, left side barely moving compared to the right. He fought off the shooting pain.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” he continued, “The world.”

Nate’s eyes flashed to his young host who was staring out the window, “What do you mean ‘expected’?” Over twenty-five years had passed since the Great War, the generation that had never seen the old world before were now adults. “Were you born in the vault you came from?”

The man shook his head vigorously, “No, but I was very young when my family entered the Vault. There were others that were born inside. They gave everyone birth control fifteen years ago, said kids were liabilities in the wasteland. I think they snuck it into the food.”

Nate’s nose wrinkled in disgust, “That’s immoral and unethical.”

“Well, that's Vault-Tec for you.”

Nate said nothing and returned his attention to his food. He cleaned his plate, going as far as licking the sauce off it before eating most of the pumpkin pie and drinking half the mutfruit juice. He felt dizzy from the overconsumption, a heaviness unfamiliar after decades of sparse meals and MRE’s. 

“Did you like it?”

Nate nodded, “It was delicious, thank you. How can I repay the favour?”

“I don’t need anything,” the man replied as he rose to collect their plates.

Nate’s eyes snapped to something thought the window, a flash of intense red before a billow of smoke was left in its wake.

“How about you tell me your name?” the man asked again with a warm smile. 

Watching the distant smoke dissipate, he answered unthinkingly, monotonously, “It’s Natán. You can call me Nate.”

“Nice to meet you, Nate, I’m Preacher.”

“Preacher.”

“Yeah, it’s an old nickname that stuck like Wonderglue,” the man stated with a hurt smile, turning away. 

Not one to let someone clean up his mess, Nate stood abruptly, causing the young man to jerk away suddenly. The plate in Preacher’s hand was raised and twisted, becoming a poor shield had Nate’s intentions been ill. Slowly, Nate lifted his hands, holding one out as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head towards the plates. Preacher looked between him and the plates before he laughed nervously and handed them over.

Nate nodded in apology before dumping them in the wash bucket and scrubbing them clean. 

Despite the sparsity of belongings, this Preacher was doing better than Nate judged. Maybe he was wrong about this one. A small part of him hoped he was.

Preacher spoke for the remaining hour Nate stayed, mainly to help clean and repair his glasses. Eventually, Nate simply stated he was leaving before grabbing his things and heading out the door as Preacher rambled of old-world pleasantries and handed him the remaining pie wrapped in a red bandana. Nate stuck out his free hand causing the man to flinch again before they politely shook hands. Once he was out the door, Nate turned back and took in the shack once more, scanning the horizon for unspoken messages.

Once satisfied, Nate began the long walk south, back to his hidden cabin. He decided he would return to check up on Preacher in a few days.


End file.
